There Was No Angel Then

    After weeks of no time for writing, much less inspiration, I got three ideas on Sunday. Unfortunately, I was sitting in church at the time. But, in my defense, they were Christmasy, Christiany type thoughts, but not thoughts that are easy to express, if this poem is any measure. All I am trying to convey is that, though angels played a role in Jesus' birth and ministry, they did not take away the trials involved in the daily lives of Mary, Joseph or Jesus. Despite the special revelation given to them and angel encounters, they lived their lives one step of obedience at a time, just as we do.

There Was No Angel Then

 

An angel came to Mary to reveal God's plan

for her, for His Son, for the world.

And an angel came in Joseph's dream

to reveal God's path for Joseph, Mary and Jesus.

But for the labor and birth in a stable,

there was no angel then.

 

An angel warned dreaming Joseph to flee to Egypt

so the child would escape Herod's slaughter.

But for the lifetime of gossip

maligning Christ's conception

the family could not flee,

there was no angel then.

 

And angels came to Jesus

to minister to him

after his forty day trial in the wilderness.

But for the long and lonely days before

of hunger, thirst, deprivation and temptation,

there was no angel then.

 

Throngs of angels announced Jesus' birth to the shepherds.

But, as the Good Shepherd lived, loved, healed and taught

His indifferent, unbelieving, increasingly hostile people,

even His own earthly family, 

for more than three years of ministry,

there was no angel then.

 

An angel came to Jesus after He sweat blood

in the garden of Gethsemane, where He agonized in prayer

to submit his will to the gruesome ordeal to come.

But for the hours of humiliation, abuse and suffering

that came before His death,

there was no angel then.

An angel rolled the stone away

to display the empty tomb,

and two told the women the resurrection news.

But when Jesus rose again,

with power to raise Himself and men,

there was no need for angels then.

 

The path we follow to fulfill

the wondrous weaving of God's will

can be a toilsome task. 

Obedience is all that's asked

to bring about God's plan

as with angels, so with man.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mask Maskier

    This stage of the pandemic is like a revolving door leading to the principal's office. Numbers are going up and, since wearing masks has been touted as the solution to the spread, the only conclusion our health officials can draw is that the sheep are no longer submitting, that is, people are not wearing masks. If that were true, there would be pockets of spunky spreaders here and there throughout the country, but the odds of people around the planet all deciding to unmask about the same time are as tiny as Covid germs. Nevertheless, we are being told through every possible means except Morse code, that the same guidelines that have led us to this spike will now lead us to safety. I have social distanced from the beginning, but I do not know how to mask maskier or wash washier.

     If instead of telling us to wear masks to corral Covid, they had said we should flap our arms to fly above the germs, at this point, instead of admitting their fix was faulty, they say we are simply not flapping hard enough or as fast as we flapped at the beginning. If this is not about health care, but an experiment in government control as the conspiracy crowd claims, then it has proved to be an epic fail. People are unwilling to continue capitulating even if their own, or their Grandma's, life depends on it. If health officials want to us flatten the curve, they need to muzzle the mask mantra. If we're already masking, they need to stop asking. And if we're through, what more can they do?

Running Over

    One afternoon last week, while we were staying at the Lakeside Lodge in Chelan, I felt myself being loved by God in an almost inexpressible way. I could not have verbally shared my feelings and gratitude if someone had been in the room with me, but the Lord encouraged me to write them down. Though I have no melody in mind, I consider this my first Psalm. A gift from me to the Lord.

                                                                      Running Over 

 

My words are too unskilled to tell

the feeling of contentment here

warm and snug in this hotel, while

outside, cold winds shake the trees

and stir up whitecaps on the lake.

I savor coffee’s scent and taste

and listen to Christmas carols play.

 

I feel known and loved and cared for

by my husband, by my Savior.

How can I not trust a God

who deigns to fill his daughter’s heart

with all the things that she loves best?

I'm peaceful as a child at rest

upon her loving Father’s chest. 

 

Is this what heaven will be like?

All my senses satisfied,

as if I were a child inside her mother,

whose hands embrace my dwelling place

to add a further tender trace

to one, whose every need’s been met,

of love that’s running over.

 

11/13/20

Packing It In

     There are few things which point out the differences between my husband and myself more than the way we pack. Reed travels for work, sometimes a lot, and I tag along, probably too much, but it has given us enough travel opportunities to have packing down to a fine art. Unfortunately, we are not in the same Art class. Right from the outset we have different styles. I pack everything possible the day before and have the outfit I am going to wear for travel assembled down to the earrings. Whereas, unless we have an early morning flight to catch, Reed would rather pack about the time we are supposed to be leaving. In fact, he was doing that the first time I met him. It was annoying but, at the time, I had no idea how many years I would be experiencing it. Through the years we've reached a compromise where we each do our part, he brings up the suitcases, I wash all the clothes, I "remind" him to pack, he packs. Reed also prefers the morning of for checking the vehicle's tire pressure and fluids. The advantage of that method is that it might cause us to visit an auto parts store that we have never been to before. The drawback is that we will leave late and I will remind him why.

     Another difference is in the amount we pack. I pack only what I am sure I will need. Reed packs everything except what he is sure he won't need. This last trip he brought along a speaker we bought years ago to play audiobooks on my laptop before I could download them on my phone, but we discovered then that the tiny speaker was not any louder than the one in my laptop. This trip, the audiobook was on my phone, I could play it through Reed's truck stereo and, even if I couldn't, we would not have been able to hear on the tiny speaker, but he still brought it because "you never know". I pack like a minimalist. Reed is a maximalist.

    As to suitcases, I am all about compartments. Undies in one, socks and belts in another. Meds and toothbrush in the small outside pocket. Toiletries and hair brush in the big outside pocket. Clothes in the big empty space. Reed puts everything in the big empty space--clothes, books, shoes etc. The most recent suitcase I bought for him even has a waterproof compartment that would be ideal for wet swimsuits, shoes or liquid toiletries. Reed usually leaves it empty. I like everything in its place and a place for everything. Reed packs a suitcase like it's a cardboard box. 

    And his portable cardboard box is his car. I had three children just so the back seat would be full and he would stop flinging things into it. He drives a compact car--a trash compact--but my car is clean so I can live with that. On work trips Reed takes a lot of heavy tools. I have about convinced him how ironically sad it would be to survive the car accident only to be clubbed to death by the cargo, so there are not as many unguided missiles riding loose in the back of the car as in years past.

    But if my husband and I differ on when and how we pack suitcases and cars, we work in harmony unpacking at home and hotels. However, there is this little awkward gap in between about the size of the hotel luggage cart. Reed would rather make three trips up and down stairs carrying as many heavy, awkward items as possible than make one trip pushing the cart. He wants me to join him in this group activity/exercise. Reed is convinced that by the time I go get the cart and bring it back to the room, we could have carried the two suitcases, three briefcases, various bags of laundry, shoes, food, etc. ourselves. I use the luggage cart for the same reason I use a grocery cart--I never learned to juggle. But it is a good thing I got the cart the morning we left our last hotel--Reed was still packing.

     

Hearing Loss

     For weeks there has been poem inside me trying to get out. I have resisted exploring it because I had a feeling it was a sad poem. Even now I hesitate to post it because what I value most from my poetry is accuracy and I have not experienced a loss such as this. I have not lost a child or a spouse. I can only draw on what I have learned, my limited experience and my ability to empathize.

 

                     Hearing Loss

In the beginning, grief is a daily dirge.

You hear it echo in the empty rooms

in the unheard conversations you long to share

in the absent voice your heart still listens for.

It whispers from the vacant sleeping place beside you,

a sound as steady as the ticking of a clock.

 

Later, there comes a quietness,

a stillness that does not seem so empty.

Your voice no longer echoes in the room,

good memories have begun to fill it.

And you realize that you are still one flesh

in all the ways that matter. 

 

At last, you hear the hymns again

and praise with joy no longer feigned.

You realize your life is more full than empty.

And you long for heaven for its own sake,

not simply as an end to your sorrow,

because part of your heart already lives there.

 

Masking the Problem

    I don't want to get into a mask debate on Facebook because, for the sake of the nonbelievers who see my posts, it is more important to be light than be right. So I will post this here where there are only about three readers to be offended. Covid numbers are spiking in many places around the globe and laying all the blame on non-maskers is masking the real problem. Many people who have not worn masks from the beginning of Covid are only now becoming infected, as are many people who have worn masks from the beginning. Cases are spiking even in countries where wearing masks, staying home and quarantines have been enforced by martial law for months. I believe most of us are masking when and where required, yet the spike continues.

     I know health officials do not want to do anything to discourage mask wearing, but I wish some would have the courage to admit there is more to the spread than mass mask defection. Something about the virus has changed. There are no experts on Covid 19, not even epidemiologists, it is a new disease. But there is a lot of data being compiled and research going on, and those findings should not be suppressed if they do not fit the mainstream narrative. Even if the spikes are due to factors we cannot control, it is better to expose the problem than to mask it.

Why I Kinda Wanted Biden to Get Elected

    I would never vote for Joe Biden. I do not share his values, if he even remembers what they are. But I still kind of hoped he would win the election because I knew if Trump was reelected, the Democrats would continue the tantrums, demonstrations, and civil disobedience that happened in 2016. As if we don't have enough of that going on already. Conversely, I knew that if Biden got elected, as long as there was no verifiable election fraud, Trump supporters would quickly return to their normal lives and get back to work. Like grownups. I am thankful to President Trump for giving us back our America, if only for a time. But I also value a peaceful lifestyle, and the Never Trumpers would have spent the next four years making sure that did not happen. As if their hatred is superior to the hatred they ascribe to Trump.

     A lot is revealed by our expectations. For instance, the nations of the world expect Israel to behave in a civilized manner and their enemies to behave like savages. Likewise, many of us expect mature behavior from Republicans and childish behavior from Democrats. Even their own supporters are not really surprised or disappointed when the representatives they elected to office play hooky or walk off the job or tear up speeches. 

   I would have liked to see the good things President Trump started continue--defunding Planned Parenthood and nations who hate us, defending the rights of the unborn and of Christians to worship, freeing believers and servicemen falsely imprisoned overseas, supporting our ally Israel, standing up to our enemies--but I know God has a reason for the change of leadership. Maybe Trump's ego would have led him and us to disastrous mistakes in his second term. And if the Lord is sovereign over strong willed Donald Trump, He is certainly sovereign over swamp creature Joe Biden. I vote to trust God's purposes and timing.

    But trusting God's eternal purpose is less difficult than dealing with daily disturbing news. So even though it makes me feel like a wimpy parent who buys their child a toy at the grocery check stand just to make them stop screaming, I kinda wanted Biden to get elected. I am tired of the tantrums, that is why.